


Surrender to Seduction

by Layne Faire (HisDarlin)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, playing loose and fast with canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 21:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14317104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisDarlin/pseuds/Layne%20Faire
Summary: “I can’t explain it, Lou. It’s like— the most incredible feeling in the world. There isn’t a drug or a drink that could come close to touching it.”“All that screaming? All for you? Of course it’s amazing.”“No,” Harry shook his head, leaning back to meet Louis’ eyes. “That’s not it. I… it’s…. the freedom. Up there, I feel like there’s no rules, that no one can stop me.” There’s nothing else that could ever compare to that rush.”“Nothing?”*****Harry knew Louis had never met a challenge he wouldn’t take on. That alone should have been enough reason not to offer one. But Louis could be quite persuasive, and Harry couldn’t resist the lure of seduction.





	Surrender to Seduction

**Author's Note:**

> _[SEDUCTION](https://open.spotify.com/track/26pvXIEpp4UVLl8gE1x8yJ?si=iVUc4FegTBOrS1C2_lmhpA)\- the act or process of being enticed into sex or lured into wrongdoing; to be seduced, to be willfully tempted into a state of desire; _   
>  _Everyone experiences seduction at least once in their life, it may be a look, a touch, or a narcissistic projection of one’s own imagination._   
>  _More vivid than reality; dangerous in the hands of some, a mountain of spices in the arms of the desired._
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> Written for the Anything But(t) challenge for the prompt "rimming in a fitting room"  
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> I may have played a bit loose and free with the definition of a fitting room, but I hope the smut makes up for it. 
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> This is a work of fanfiction and as such, belongs in fandom. Do not share with the band or their friends and family. 
> 
> My love and thanks to my beta and cheerleaders, who'll remain nameless until authors are revealed. Thank you to everyone who reads, comments, and leaves kudos. You give writers the desire to continue writing.

* * *

 

The seat belt sign chimed, blinked, and turned off, the noise from the jet engines slowly subsiding when the plane taxied to a stop. He slowly opened his eyes, the familiar sights of Heathrow filling the narrow window he’d leaned his head up against while dozing during the short flight he’d taken as soon as he could get away from the venue in Mannheim.  

London.

So close to his family.

So close to Home.

The bone deep weariness that had plagued him since Madrid slowly seeped from Harry, replaced with anticipation. He reached into the seat pocket to remove his phone, switching it from airplane mode, only to have a series of texts and messages pop across the screen the moment service connected. While he couldn’t wait to see his family in Birmingham on Saturday, there was only one message he wanted to see. He continued scrolling, eyes scanning each preview, his heart sinking when he reached the bottom of the screen. Nothing.

Louis’ single and album releases were drawing closer, and he was fighting for more promotion from Epic. As a result, Harry had known the possibility existed that Louis would miss the England tour dates. They’d adapted before, they’d do it again, but he’d really hoped to have Louis backstage. His presence grounded Harry in a way nothing else could. Even if he couldn’t stand right in front of Harry while he sang, knowing that Louis could hear him singing their songs, their story, to thousands of people, and hear their reactions to them, made the audience’s excitement that much sweeter. With a muffled sigh, he pocketed the phone and gathered his overnight bag and guitar.. He knew he and Louis were lucky. They had the resources to ensure they spent as much time together as possible. It didn’t make it any less disappointing when plans fell through, though, especially when they were on different continents.

Security got him out of the airport without incident, no one the wiser he’d even flown back early. Settling into the back of the SUV, Harry contemplated leaving straightaway for Birmingham. Without Louis in London, there was no point in delaying the trip. He pulled his phone out to send his mum a text to let her know he’d be up sooner, when a  jaw-cracking yawn put pat to that idea. A few hours of sleep were necessary before tackling the three hour drive. He rested the phone on his leg and let his head loll back against the seat, mentally computing the time difference to LA. It wasn’t even seven yet. Louis had mentioned a session with one of his producers; some last minute vocal touch-ups on one of the newer tracks he’d written just before the end of the year. While he knew Louis wouldn’t mind the interruption, Harry hated doing it. They’d talked before the concert; he could wait until Louis called when he finished at the studio. He’d likely be buzzing with excitement, and Harry counted on the enthusiasm to buoy his spirits.

The car service pulled up in front of the London house, every window dark, and any hope Harry had of Louis having already arrived and being there to surprise him vanished. Fizzy had Clifford with her at the other house, so he couldn’t even count on the dog’s enthusiastic greeting. The driver carried Harry’s bags into the entryway, and after handing the man a generous tip, Harry shut and locked the door behind him. He left the bags by the door, slowly plodding up the stairs.

The vibration of his phone ringing pulled him out of his musings. A cluster of silly emojis flashed on the screen, the combination he’d jokingly assigned to Harry Lambert nearly three years ago after a night of drinking with Antonio and Louis. Harry thumbed across the screen to accept the call while he entered the empty bedroom.  

“You didn’t catch up with me after the show, H. We need to pick your suit for Birmingham.” Harry jumped in without preamble.

“Sorry. I wanted to get home. Thought Lou would be here.” Harry winced. Saying it out loud sounded almost pathetic.

“I’m guessing by the dejected tone, that’s not the case.”

“It happens. Hopefully he’ll make it before the London shows.” Harry stifled another yawn. “What were you thinking for Birmingham?”

“You’re exhausted. I’ll send you pictures of both suits, though I’m almost positive I know which one you’ll choose - especially now. Let me know your decision in the morning.” Harry replied, his voice softening. “Get some sleep, H. I’ll see you in Birmingham and we can double check the fit then.” Harry murmured his thanks to his stylist and disconnected the call. The pictures of the two suits popped up on his screen, and there was no contest. While both suits were stunning - the blue. It had to be the blue. He immediately replied with his choice, smiling at the “I figured” he received in response.

That out of the way, Harry walked into the bathroom. Tapping the corner of the ridiculous smart mirror Louis had installed, he called up the Spotify app, and hit play. Kendrick Lamar’s Damn permeated the room. Harry shrugged and left it on. Any noise was better than the oppressive silence that had greeted him when he entered the house. He stripped down, tossing his clothes into a laundry basket in the corner. He’d not bothered to shower after the concert, so intent on getting back to London as quickly as possible. Not that it mattered now. He pushed the self-pity away, and twisted the hot tap on, desperate to wash away the sticky sweat residue that clung to his skin. Water rained down from the multiple shower heads, a billow of steam filling the room when he opened the enclosure to step inside. He made short work of washing up, too tired to linger under the hot spray. All he really wanted was to crawl into bed and crash until Louis called. Stepping from the shower, he grabbed a bath sheet from the warming rack and toweled off his hair and chest, then tucked it around his waist. He tapped the mirror to turn the volume down, then grabbed his toothbrush. His phone vibrated across the sink counter - a text, not a phone call. Wiping his hand down the towel to dry it off, he picked up the phone and kept brushing while he read the message. And almost choked on the mouthful of foam.

 

**_My flight leaves in 30 min. Appt @6pm Self’s PS on 1. Meet me. For the thrill._ **

 

Harry spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth, already dialing Louis’ number. It went straight to voicemail and he dialed again. And again. And a fourth time, before giving up. That fucking tease! He’d deliberately texted at the last minute, knowing Harry wouldn’t reach him in time, and that he’d follow through because there was no way to back out, either.

It had been a joke, for fuck’s sake! Something said in passing, just a little fantasy mentioned when Harry had been more than a little drunk and and a lot exhilarated from the high of being on stage again. Harry should have known Louis would see working out the logistics as a challenge, not a deterrent. It shouldn’t surprise him at all. Louis being Louis - he’d figured out a way to make it reality. Harry rubbed his hand across tired eyes. He tugged on a pair of pants, then slid into bed. Unsure if he’d kill or kiss his fiancé when he saw him, Harry sank deeper into the mattress’ cocoon, pulled the covers close, and let sleep overcome him. Louis’ fate would wait until morning.

 

*********

 

Harry felt like he’d barely fallen asleep when the persistent ring of his phone dragged him awake. An aimless hand slapped around on the night table until he retrieved the offending piece of technology. He squinted at the display, noting the time, and collapsed back on the pillow with a groan. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away, he thought to himself, a half-smile curling his lip when it stopped ringing. The relief proved to be short-lived. The ringing started again - seemingly more strident then before, demanding his immediate attention. Harry knew who was calling, knew he wouldn’t give up until he could personally harangue Harry for skipping his workout.  

“ ‘lo,” Harry answered, then pulled the phone away from his ear.

“You’re late. You wanted the gym time this morning, I agreed, and now you’re late.” David’s voice boomed through the earpiece, and Harry flinched in response.

“I didn’t get to bed until almost 4,” Harry didn’t bother hiding the petulant whine in his voice.

“That’s why I waited an extra 30 minutes before I called. It’s 10:30. I expect you here by 11. Now move your arse.”

The call disconnected, leaving Harry awake and disgruntled. He laid still another moment, then with a growl, kicked his feet, flailed his arms around him, and thrashed his head across the pillow while he madly screamed “I don’t wanna go!” over and over until the sheer ridiculousness of a grown man throwing a temper tantrum to rival a three year old hit him, and he choked out a laugh. He’d truly lost the plot, he thought to himself. Doris would have been impressed.

Rolling out of bed, Harry staggered to the closet and dug out some workout gear, then tossed a spare towel in his bag along with a clean shirt. He paused in the kitchen to brew a quick cup of coffee and toast a slice of bread. He smeared it with jam when it popped up, tucking it into his mouth and grabbing an apple from the fruit the housekeeper stocked when she knew he’d be home. Within fifteen minutes David’s call, he backed his car out of the garage, and turned in the direction of the gym. Three and a half hours later found him staggering back through the door, drenched in sweat, starving, and cursing David’s existence. He had less than four hours to eat, shower, prepare for Louis’ sexcapade, and drive to Selfridge’s. Scratch that. Lack of sleep, combined with his impatience to see Louis, made driving a bad idea.  Instead, he pressed a contact on his phone, and scheduled a car service for later that afternoon. It would also make it easier for him to sneak into the department store if the car dropped him right at the entrance.

“Safety first,” he announced to the empty room, then shook his head with a wry chuckle. Solitude had made him barmy.

Lunch proved to be nothing more than eggs and toast, anticipation and mindfulness of what Louis had planned necessitating a bland choice. He’d already scheduled dinner from Sketch for later that evening  Much later.

Once he’d straightened the kitchen, Harry retreated to their room. What did one wear to a tryst in a department store? He pulled open the closet doors and stepped inside, his fingers trailing down the rack of clothes while he considered his options. He and Louis had been together for nearly eight years. While their situation created more opportunities for impulsive gestures, it typically involved both of them being involved in planning them, if only for expediency’s sake. But this - this was a whole other level. This would require a certain level of discretion, ruling out the majority of Harry’s wardrobe at the London house. There had been that one… the last box Alessandro’s assistant had sent over.... Harry dug deeper into the closet, certain he’d not given it away. And then he spotted it, folded neatly on a shelf , almost like an afterthought.

A simple black v-neck jumper from Gucci, largely unassuming, other than the all over pattern of white bees on the front - which had been why he’d hesitated to wear it anywhere that he might be papped. The resultant meltdown it would cause amongst their fans would have been nightmarish. But for this, it would be perfect. He added a black golf polo, black skinny jeans, and black chelsea boots and stepped back to gauge the overall effect.  A bit monochromatic, but with a pair of aviators on… If he moved quickly, but carefully, he’d be fairly obscure in the bustle of the department store on a late Friday afternoon. It was a short walk to the security of the men’s personal shopper lounge. There he’d be safe from any fans who might be wandering through the store, especially under the department manager Lampros’ watchful eyes.

Clothing decided on, Harry stripped down and stepped into the shower for the second time in twelve hours. While the previous night’s shower had been perfunctory at best, this one required a bit more... attention to detail... to ensure he’d be prepared for anything Louis had planned. In that vein, he also made a mental note to grab a strip of the rarely used condoms in their night table. Public meant the need for less mess - they didn’t need a repeat of the jeans incident.  He stepped from the shower, carefully toweling himself off, and then—

That’s when the butterflies hit.

It wasn’t like they’d never done it before. Hell, after seven years, there wasn’t a whole lot they hadn’t explored in their sex lives. Even public sex wasn’t out of their realm of experience. However, backstage at a concert venue or the dressing room during a tv performance, situations where their security controlled the environment, didn’t hold quite the risks of a department store fitting room. Okay, sure, it’s part of a semi-private lounge, but… It didn’t negate the potential risks; nor did it lessen the rush of adrenaline that surged through Harry. He shivered, remembering that night in Basel.

 

_“I can’t explain it, Lou. It’s like— the most incredible feeling in the world. There isn’t a drug or a drink that could come close to touching it.” Harry snuggled deeper into Louis’ side, sighing in satisfaction at the tug of Louis’ fingers slowly dragging through the curls that were making a gradual reappearance._

_“All that screaming? All for you? Of course it’s amazing.”_

_“No,” Harry shook his head, leaning back to meet Louis’ eyes. “That’s not it. I… it’s…. the freedom. Up there, I feel like there’s no rules, that no one can stop me.” There’s nothing else that could ever compare to that rush.”_

_“Nothing?” Louis tangled his legs in Harry’s and flipped him flat on his back while straddling his hips. He pressed down, and Harry noted  the sly smile curling his lips when Harry gasped in response._

_“Well… okay. There might be one or two things.” Harry rocked his hips up to grind harder against Louis while his hands glided across Louis’ legs to hold his hips in place._

_Louis leaned down, His lips ghosting across Harry’s throat. He nuzzled into the crook of his neck and murmured, “Such as?”_

_Harry squirmed at the tickling sensation. “Ahhh… uhm… sex— sex in public. The threat of being caught.” His breath caught when Louis bit down into the sinewed muscle of his shoulder._

_“We’ve had sex in public.”_

_“Not… not like a.. Ahhhhh … a quick blowie or a handjob backstage. Something— mmmmmm you’re gonna leave a mark, love— riskier.” Louis dragged his teeth down Harry’s chest until he found his nipple. He laved the tight bud, then tugged it between his sharp teeth. “Like proper sex… or… or rimming… and no security guarding the area..aaahhhh..”_

_“Rimming? In public?” Louis glanced up, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “That’s your comparison? That would give you the same thrill?” He slid his hard cock against Harry’s while tangling his fingers through the fine hairs at the base of Harry’s scalp. “Interesting.”_

_“Not as… as interesting as this right now,” Harry growled, his muscles no longer lax, every nerve singing. He gripped Louis’ arse, fingers digging into the plump flesh and teasing across his crack, and the conversation faded away while they savored the moments they had together right then._

 

Harry had thought that was the last of it, but Louis hadn’t let it go, bringing the idea up nearly every time they’d skype after Harry’s shows, wanting to know the details Harry had imagined.

The first time he brought it up was defining parameters— _"How public is public?” I dunno. A fitting room, maybe. Not a club loo or VIP, its tacky and cliched. And we've done that._

And then— “ _We_ _ll, we've kind of done that.” Rubbing each other off fully clothed on a dance floor isn't exactly sex. “But there was that time in New York.” We are NOT discussing New York in 2012. The entire fandom figured that one out._

And finally, there was _— “Who's receiving-you or me?” Doesn’t matter, Lou  - it’s just the thrill. The risk of being caught. You know I’ll worship your arse anytime I get the opportunity._

And now…

Harry’s phone chimed; a message from the car service to let him know they were on their way. He quickly finished dressing, then checked to make sure he had his wallet and keys. He took an extra minute to really stare at himself in the mirror. He slid on his aviators, tilting his head right, then left. He looked… like himself. With an aggravated sigh, he mussed his hair into loose curls instead of the partial quiff he’d combed it into. Giving his reflection another once over, he decided it had to be good enough. He’d keep his head down and not smile at anyone. As an afterthought, he also grabbed a black snapback from Louis’ side of the closet. Maybe if he tugged it low enough it would support the illusion. Just as he contemplated changing again, the buzzer for the gate chimed through the house. Out of time, he rushed down the stairs. The clothes would have to do. That, and a quick prayer to whatever deity protected wayward popstars with public exposure kinks.

 

*********

 

The lights of Oxford Street slid past the darkly-tinted windows of the SUV that had picked Harry up from their London house. He’d directed the driver to take him to the first floor car park entrance, hoping there’d be less people there early evening than at the main entrance, then slid into the back seat. He tapped his fingers nervously on the armrest, his focus split between the passing city sights and his strangely silent phone. The short drive ended all too soon. The driver offered to wait until Harry finished his shopping, an innocuous statement that had Harry biting back an embarrassed bark of laughter.

Thanking him with a polite decline, Harry made a quick visual sweep of the largely empty garage, then slipped out of the SUV and through the entrance door. He took the empty stairs two at a time, then paused inside the door near Men’s shoes, grateful to find the department empty, save a couple of clerks. He tugged the brim of the snapback down and moved along the vacant aisle, turned the corner and cut through the men’s designer department to shorten the distance to the personal shopper lounge.  Two women passed by, and Harry felt certain he’d been caught out when one paused to turn and look after him, only to overhear her comment to her friend “well he’s right fit.”. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, he slipped behind a stand of mannequins until they walked away, then hustled into the safety of the lounge.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry removed the hat and dragged a shaking hand through his hair to loosen it back up. Lampros, the head of the department, looked up from where he stood behind the counter, the reception phone pressed to his ear. His eyes widened in surprise, before he nodded in quiet acknowledgement of Harry’s finger pressed against his lips in a shushing gesture. Lampros held up his hand, then one finger, then hung up the phone. One clerk stood assisting a customer at a table on the other side of the room, but other than that, no else was present. Not even Louis.

“Mr. - uhh - Green,” Lampros paused, using the name Harry’s personal assistant had jokingly created for privacy’s sake, “so lovely to see you this evening, sir. I don’t recall having seen an appointment on the—”

The door opened behind Harry, a familiar raspy voice interjecting, “He’s here to meet with me, Lam.” A thin arm twined around Harry’s waist, chapped lips pressed against his cheek. “Hello, love. Missed you.”

Lampros nodded, his eyes twinkling in acknowledgement. He’d assisted them both on more than one occasion, and understood the need for discretion. “Of course, Mr. Suey.” Harry stifled a groan at the ridiculous name, reminded of how embarrassingly obvious they’d been six years ago. “I’ve placed the suits you requested in the Blue Suite, if you’d like to follow me.” Lampros led the way, holding open the door to allow them to enter. “The Lounge is quiet today, though be advised there is a client in the Red Suite next door - a journalist.”

Louis glanced at Harry, then nodded. “Noted.”

“Will you be needing the tailor, sir?”

Harry choked, covering it with a cough, while Louis replied. “Let me try them on, and I’ll get back to you on that, okay?”

“Of course, sir. The refreshments you requested are also inside. If that’ll be all, I’ll leave you to your—ahem— shopping. Just a reminder - the suite is booked for two hours, however should you need more time...”

“Yes, excellent, Lam. Thank you. Your assistance is greatly appreciated. Two hours should be more than sufficient to take care of my needs today.”

Harry choked, covering it with a cough, then squirmed away from the sharp pinch to his side. While Harry couldn’t see Louis’ face, he knew, without a doubt, the self-satisfied smirk that would be on full display. His fiancé was a fucking menace, determined to kill him from abject embarrassment. He drifted toward the rack of suits that waited inside, easily recognizing Paul Smith and Givenchy amongst the selection.

The door clicked shut, and Harry turned, his previous assumption correct. Louis exuded pure deviousness, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Louis stopped in front of him, rocking back on his heels, looking for all the world like a toddler who’d successfully emptied the biscuit tin.

“Surprised?” Louis slid his hands up the front of Harry’s jumper to clasp them behind his neck.

“Yes, of course I am.” Harry leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss across Louis’ lips. “I was already home and completely disappointed by the time I received your text. And aren’t you sly - waiting to send it until I couldn’t reach you.”

“Would you have come if you had the chance to back out?” Louis leaned closer, his teeth nipping at Harry’s earlobe.

“I might have protested, just a bit, but I’m sure you’d have persuaded me anyway.” Harry slid his hands down Louis’ hips, resting them on his arse. “Besides, you know I’d do anything for a bit of this.”

With a subtle grind of his hips, Louis brushed across Harry’s already growing erection and lifted Harry’s hands back to his waist. “Oh no, love, not my arse.”

Harry’s eyes widened, his voice catching in his throat.

“You see, I’ve become aware of an egregious oversight on my part these last few weeks, one that I’ve been made painfully aware of through fan comments I’ve seen on Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube. You, my darling, have developed an absolutely delectable arse, and Harry’s tailoring has more than done justice to the magnificent work you’ve put in.” Louis’ hand danced low, grabbing generous handfuls of Harry’s arse to emphasize his point, while he leaned in for another kiss, his tongue stroking the crease of Harry’s lips, before delving in for more. When Harry whimpered and pressed closer, Louis pulled away slowly to whisper against his lips. “I’ve been derelict in paying attention to this detail, something I’m determined to rectify. Here. Now.”  

“Did you lock the door?”

“Do you really want it locked?” Louis’ deft fingers made quick work of the button and zip on Harry’s jeans, while Harry fought to regain his composure.

“I said risk, not abject stupidity.” Harry paused when Louis lifted the hem of Harry’s jumper to tug it over his head, leaving the golf shirt behind, then pleaded, “Please, Lou.”

“I already did, when Lam left.” Louis slid a hand inside Harry’s open fly, encountering bare skin. He arched an inquisitive eyebrow and stroked the satiny smooth shaft, while he crowded Harry back toward the chaise behind him.“No pants, Haz? “Aren’t you the cheeky lad, then? Whatever would your mother think?”

“Can we… ahhh fuck…” Harry moaned, his voice gone gravelly, one hand braced on the chaise, the other reaching to pull Louis closer, “not discuss my mum whilst your holding my cock? That’s a whole ‘nother kind of weird.”

“Point taken.”

Louis eased the jeans down, freeing Harry’s cock. The foreskin had begun to retract, the head already a darker blush and a bead of precome gathered at the slit. Sliding gracefully to his knees, Louis took Harry in hand again, sliding the foreskin down, then back,  his tongue teasing across the head, before finally wrapping his lips around Harry’s cock to lick and tease along the heated skin. Harry fought the urge to buck deep into the enveloping warmth, though his hand tangled in Louis’ hair for leverage.

Louis looked up at Harry through those damnable lashes, then closed his eyes. He slid his mouth the full length of the shaft, taking it into his throat and swallowing. Harry’s knees buckled, the arm of the chaise the only thing supporting him.  Louis slid back out again, removed his lips with an audible pop, and settled back on his heels.

“Turn around and bend over, love.”

Harry’s feet tangled in his jeans when he rushed to comply. With a frustrated groan, he kicked them away, then draped himself over the chaise arm, his breath hissing between his teeth when his cock bobbed against the plush fabric.

“Careful, darling. I’ve got you.” Louis crooned, his hands sliding up the back of Harry’s thighs to push away the hem of the shirt and dig into the fleshy mounds of his arse cheeks.

With feather-like strokes, he teased his fingers closer to the cleft, his thumbs brushing across the edge of the furled opening. He spread Harry’s cheeks wide, each exhale a hair closer than the one before, a sheen of sweat prickling his skin. Harry buried his face in the crook of his elbow, turning to bite his arm in an effort not to scream in frustrated anticipation. He arched his back and planted his feet, his hips tilted up in invitation for whatever Louis would give him to alleviate the mind-numbing array of sensations that had Harry lightheaded and whining for more.

“Lou—arrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhh!” The flat broad scrape of Louis’ tongue from his balls to the base of his spine eviscerated any chance of coherent thought. Harry’s voice broke, his fingers twisted into the cushions to ground himself. And Louis’s tongue stroked again, then again, the trail of spit cooling in between each pass, only to be replenished on the next.

“Shhhhh, love. Do you want everyone to hear you?”

Harry whimpered in response, but quieted down, focusing his energies on chasing the euphoria Louis’ tongue and touch offered.

“So fucking good for me, baby. Taste so good.” Louis muttered against Harry’s hole, the vibrations sending tingling shocks along Harry’s spine, every nerve in his body firing across all synapses.

Louis slid a hand between Harry’s thighs and hefted the weight of Harry’s sac in his palm, before gently laving the tender flesh. He dragged his teeth across Harry’s taint, then sucked his arsehole, saliva drenching Harry’s skin.  Louis wedged his shoulders between Harry’s thighs, leaving him open and exposed to Louis’ fervent ministrations. The muscles in Harry’s legs shook in response, keening whimpers and incoherent babbling spilling from his lips when the pointed tip of Louis’ tongue breached the tight ring of muscles, his thumb joining to keep Harry open to each questing thrust. Harry pressed back into Louis’ tongue, then bucked forward, craving friction on his throbbing cock, but unable to twist his arm to stroke himself.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry sobbed, white light refracting off the tears trapped behind his tightly shut eyes. “I need….” Harry twisted his hips, pressing back into Louis face for deeper penetration, an agonized wail bitten off by a moaning stream of thank yous when Louis wrapped his free hand around Harry’s shaft.

“That’s it, Hazza.” Louis sounded breathless, his voice wrecked. His hand tightened at Harry’s base, staving off his release. Harry bit off the scream that pulsed in his chest, so hyper-sensitized he couldn’t think, much less talk. “That’s it baby. Fuck my hand. Want me to swallow you, baby? Let you fuck my mouth til I choke?”  Harry sobbed again. He bucked into Louis' fist, then pressed his arse back again, silently begging for more. Louis took the hint, his mouth once again covering Harry’s hole, his thumb opening Harry up to plunge his tongue back inside. He eased his thumb out, a longer finger replacing it. Harry redoubled his efforts, chasing the spark that sizzled through his veins and threatened to consume him. Louis met each thrust, his finger twisting, and Harry panting in response. “So close Lou, so… fucking close…” Harry thrust back again as Louis pressed outward, hitting the bundle of nerves that sent Harry over the edge, the world dissolving into a pounding rush through his veins and an explosion of white light, followed by blissful oblivion when he came. He collapsed into the seat of the chaise, Louis helping to ease him down slowly, then wrap himself around Harry.

Harry’s chest heaved, each breath an effort to draw in, his body drenched in sweat, the golf shirt stuck to his skin. He felt each caress of Louis’ hands on his skin, in his hair. The gentle whispers and affirmations barely penetrated his consciousness, but the encompassing aura of Louis’ love enveloped him, pulling him back to his center and lifting him back to consciousness. He turned into Louis’ embrace and sought his lips, needing their touch to ground him.

“Come back to me, Harry,” Louis whispered against his skin.

Harry smiled at the tickling sensation, too wrung out to laugh. “ ‘m thirsty,” he voice cracked, his tongue thick and dry.

“Just a minute, love. Will you be okay if I leave you?”

Harry nodded in response, his senses still hovering on the plane between bliss and reality.  Louis moved away, the absence of his warmth setting off a series of shivers through Harry’s body. He quickly returned and helped Harry ease to a sitting position, then tilted the water bottle to his lips. “Slow, Hazza. You don’t want to choke.” Louis soothed, hands still gliding over Harry’s skin.

Harry greedily swallowed, then took the bottle from Louis to rub the chilled plastic against his flushed forehead.

“Is there juice?”

“Yeah. Orange, pineapple, or apple. Or champagne.”

“No alcohol, just some orange juice.” Louis quickly complied, placing the glass in Harry’s hand, then settled on the chaise and drew Harry into his embrace. “Louis?”

“Yeah, love?”

“You didn’t… you know.”

Wasn’t about me, love. This was for you, your fantasy.” Louis kissed his forehead, his eyes, his lips. His hands slid down Harry’s arms, danced over the tattoos that told their story, before he tangled their fingers together. “But once we get home—”

“Anything.” Harry’s skin tingled and he knew Louis could feel the love radiating from him. “Except cooking. I already made plans for dinner, they’re just waiting for me to call.”

“Then let’s do that. Want me to help you clean yourself up?”

“I think I can manage. Just call for the car service.” Harry stood and staggered toward the restroom in the back of the suite. “ Lou?”

Yeah, baby?”

“Buy all the suits.”

Okay, Haz. Whatever you want.”

Harry stuck his head back out the door one more time. “And Lou?”

Louis turned, a fond smile gracing his lips and creasing the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, Haz?”

“It was better than being on stage.”  

 


End file.
